Questioning Destiny
by MusicalBohemian
Summary: What did Darren learn at the end of Book 12? (spoilers) That, if Mr Tiny fails this time, he'll try again and again until his plan is successful. Darren may be gone, but a new half-vampire looks set to follow in his footsteps...but must he? Is destiny r
1. Chapter One, & 1st Interlude: Paradise

**Quick note:** This story is based after the events in Book 12. I was inspired to write it after the discovery that, if things don't go Mr Tiny's way once, everything will start all over again until they do. This is what is happening in this fic: all of the characters who died during the series have had to have been replaced with other, similar counterfeits, but all those who didn't remain...Tiny was simply able to search their memories and erase all those from events over the last 12 books.  
The main theme of this fic is destiny: something I read in the last book led me to believe that what Mr Tiny convinces people is destiny may be something more...or less.  
I hope you enjoy it!

**Disclaimer:** All characters which have appeared in the 12-book Saga of Darren Shan are property of Darren Shan. However, all the 'counterfeit' characters are all my own invention (despite them being similar to the originals!)

So here we go...

**Questioning Destiny**

**Chapter One**

I inked my name across the back of my forearm with the feather-quill pen I'd requested the evening before. I wanted to be sure I was who – _what _– I was being led to believe.

_David Soul. 17. Vampire._

The rivulets of dark ink seeped across my skin like blood running through tiny veins, as if confirming the facts. If I woke up, and the writing was gone, I would know everything that had happened to me over the last seven or so years was just a long - very long – dream. From the day I happened upon a freak show, was blooded a creature of the night by a vampire travelling with the performers, and had by best friend turn against me, sworn to hunt me down and kill me. Throughout the time I'd had to fake my own death, journey in the dark like a convict, witness pain, death and deception…

I should have said _nightmare_.

But then, there have been good things, too; the discovery of my vampire strengths and superior skills, the chance to lead a life of excitement – and, believe me, I'd had enough of _that_ already – and the friendships I'd sealed.

I didn't want it to end.

_If this is a dream,_ I told myself, settling down on my mattress and closing my eyes, _it's one I won't forget._

**First Interlude: Paradise**

I, Darren Shan, know all about destiny.

Or, at least, I thought I did. A man named Mr Tiny had taught my kind about destiny for hundreds of years. He led me to believe I'd been clutched in the hands of destiny from the day I was blooded a vampire.

Yet it brought me to something Mr Tiny had not reckoned on – and still does not. It gave me time to gather together all my knowledge – Mr Crepsley's, too; knowledge that not even Des Tiny can ever possess, for although he has visited the Lake of Souls many times in the great stretch of his life…he has never been to Paradise.

He will never get to where Mr Crepsley and I now wait, because he has destroyed too many lives, caused too many disasters…and no doubt plans the downfall of just as many to come.

It was the happiest moment of my life – my un-life…my _death-life_ – being reunited with Mr Crepsley, my mentor and best friend. He hadn't changed on the outside; ageing in Paradise isn't bothered with, but the inside was filled with much more.

With the things he had come to know here while we other vampires still walked the unhappy earth, combined with the things I'd learned during my last months amongst the living, we knew we finally held the answer to everything we'd been struggling against for so long.

It all boiled down to destiny. What we'd thought was destiny.

For years, Mr Tiny had controlled the vampires and the vampaneze by advising us to do things a certain way, that it was fate that things should happen. We'd been bending to his will blindly; never considering what would happen if we dared to take a different path. If we'd had the courage to step from Tiny's path, we would have learned that everything we do, we do by choice…_there is no destiny._


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

When I woke the following evening, there wasn't so much as a stain on my arm to show for what I'd written there the morning before.

Grudgingly, I glanced around; dreading but expecting to see the bedroom I'd had to leave years ago, as complete in real life as it had been in my memory. Instead; same thin mattress, same packed-dirt floor, same glittering grey walls of the same echoing caverns. I was still in Vampire Mountain.

Something strange had happened, and I wanted to find out what. I got up and went to find Mr Crewley.

I caught up with my mentor in the great dining cavern, exchanging words with Danver Pell, a short, stocky vampire who breathed too loudly and often looked half asleep; I'd heard he'd never been an early riser.

Mr Crewley broke off the conversation with curiosity when he noticed my expression. "Were you hoping to catch breakfast, David?" He nodded towards a large black spider as it scuttled across his empty platter and dropped out of sight. Danver chuckled sleepily.

"Mr Crewley," I broke in, "am I dreaming?"

He stared at me in bemusement, and it was all the confirmation I needed. "Never mind."

"No, what…what made you say that?"

I shrugged. "I wrote something on my arm before I went to sleep. It'd gone when I woke."

He glanced at my arm, then bowed his head and grunted. "Did you use ink?"

"Yes!"

"Well then, I'm afraid…" The amused grin he'd been trying to conceal burst forth as he fixed his eyes on my face. "You should have had it tattooed, David."

"_What?_" I loathe tattoos.

"The cells in a vampire's skin repel all liquids, save blood. You write on your arm with ink, it will run straight off again. Even tattoos are rejected eventually."

That didn't make any sense. "But Arrow-"

Arrow was a vampire prince whose bald head was etched with wild designs.

"Arrow has his re-applied every few months or so," Danver put in. "There are times you'll catch him with those tattoos faded almost to nothing."

I raised my eyebrows. Seven years as a vampire and my body still surprised me.

"Of course," continued Danver, "since you're only half-vampire, I expect a tattoo would last for longer, if you're willing to try."

I grimaced and shook my head. "I'll remember that in case I ever need to remember a phone number." Vampires don't hold with modern day appliances.

"Suit yourself."

I'd only arrived at Vampire Mountain a few days ago, and there was a great deal of the place I'd not yet had the chance to explore. I'd been the centre of curiosity from day one, as one of the youngest half-vampires ever to have been blooded – let alone turn up at Vampire Mountain for the Council – and it had been hard to get away from the questions and sidelong glances.

Now, however, all the vampires I usually passed, talking in the tunnels or emerging from exercise halls, were absent; no doubt some important General or other had arrived with a story to tell – one more interesting than the boy-vampire Darren Soul!

I supposed my appearance made me seem younger than I was; I'd aged about two years in the last seven. Mr Crewley assured me I wouldn't remain in the body of a child forever, but it wasn't long before I'd started wishing I'd grow chest hair!

The tunnel I was walking down had been fashioned into a smooth-walled corridor like all the others in the main living areas of the mountain, and bright torches flickered in brackets to keep the luminous lichen company. I'd seen everything of importance in this area' now, I wanted to explore further, deeper.

I walked for about half an hour until the lamps in their brackets were left behind, and the light turned eerily green as the lichen regained its dominance. The chiselled walls, too, stopped abruptly so I could see the natural shapes of the tunnels, casting shadows and revealing long cracks through which cool air seeped. I stopped, satisfied that I'd found a place to escape the questions for a while.

"What are you doing?"

I jumped and cracked my elbow on a jutting chunk of rock.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

I tried to turn my grimace into a grin as I looked up at the person who'd emerged from the opening to my right. It was Kaden Sarda, a young-looking vampire general whose face was not as scarred as most and whose blonde hair wasn't the slightest bit lank. He'd nodded kindly at me a few times but, until now, we'd never met properly. I looked past him to the room he'd just left, unsure what to say to this soon-to-be Prince, if I was to take the rumours seriously. He followed my gaze.

"My map room," Kaden explained. "It's a hobby I'm little respected for…I prefer to do it in private."

I blinked, confused.

"Map drawing! The other generals think I should have better things to do – what with my investiture as a prince so soon – than wandering through uncharted tunnels…Like you're doing." He said it pointedly.

"I was exploring…"

Kaden studied me for a moment, thoughtfully, before slowly nodding.

"Nothing wrong with curiosity, I suppose. In fact, I admire it." He began to head back the way I'd come, but turned just before he rounded the corner. "Just…you won't make a habit of it, will you? The uncharted caverns can be dangerous…I've had a few accidents myself." He indicated his face, but all I could see were three small scars, parallel to each other, as if scratched there by a wolf.

"I won't," I called, and he waved and left.

Kaden Sarda's map room didn't interest me much, so I continued down the main corridor. As long as the luminous lichen lit the way, I figured, I'd be unlikely to suffer a fatal accident!

The first cavern that attracted my attention was colossal; greater than the dining caves, even, and I wondered why it wasn't in use. Then, as my ears recognised the roaring sound that reverberated around the entire cavern, I knew the answer. I made my way to a precipice at the far end of the cave and gazed down into a tremendous, frothing pool. From somewhere above, water was cascading down into it. It was immense, and the most exciting thing I'd witnessed since I'd arrived at Vampire Mountain. I leaned forward and bent my head upwards, searching for the source of such a torrent.

"I'd be careful, if I were you."

"I'm not going to fall in," I replied, just as softly as the voice that had just spoken. I supposed Kaden must have followed me here to check I'd be alright…yet my voice was swallowed up by the din of the waterfall. And so the other voice should have been.

I spun around, expecting to see someone by my side, but I was alone on the precipice. I made to turn back to the swirling pool when I caught a movement, further back where the shadows were darkest.

"Hello? Kaden?"

I stepped forwards and strained my eyes, wondering why he didn't approach me. Then – I saw it wasn't the blonde vampire, but a youth with jet-black hair, who appeared to be about my age; a lot older than I must have seemed to him. There was something familiar about his features…I'd seen him in a dream twice since I'd come to the mountain, and had taken him to be me; the shape of his face, the way his hair fell, even the small scars on his cheeks, were so much like mine. And as for his eyes…

His deep blue ones caught and held the gaze of mine, slate-grey, and he smiled understandingly.

"Eyes are difficult things to predict, even for someone like Mr Tiny."

He said it so matter-of-factly that I found myself nodding in reply.

I had no idea what he was talking about. Before I could question him, his head jerked and his eyes narrowed, as if he was listening to something far away, beyond the mountain, beyond this world, even. He turned to me hastily.

"I'm glad we've finally met face-to-face…I'll see you."

He walked swiftly away through the shadows but, try as I could, I did not hear his footfalls.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

_Note: If anyone's interested, the name 'Linus' means 'flaxen coloured'. Lovely. Poor Mr Crewley. The name 'Abra' means 'mother of many', quite ironic since vampires can't have children…Maybe I should stop picking these names apart…unless it's actually interesting anyone?!_

**Chapter Three**

As my mentor shook me awake the following evening, my heart plummeted and I wanted nothing more than to bury my face in the mattress and return to my dreams.

The moment I'd put out of my mind since the night I'd arrived could not be avoided any longer. It was time for me to face the princes and – more than likely – their displeasure that I'd been blooded so young.

Mr Crewley's growing nervousness augmented my own anxiety as we made our way to the great Hall of Princes; I felt that at last we shared something, other than the blood in our veins.

"Do vampires write wills?" I asked my mentor as we stood outside the hall's strangely pulsing doors, vampire guards searching us from head to toe for hidden weapons.

"We do not usually own the sort of possessions you would find listed in a will. Memories, knowledge, nothing more…" He broke off. "Why?"

I grinned. "You might want to think about writing your own; this may be the last chance you'll get!"

A couple of the guards stifled laughter or nodded their heads in mock agreement, while Mr Crewley looked ahead, acting as though he hadn't heard me.

My own grin fell away, however, when we were summoned into the hall.

I struggled to keep my mouth from dropping open as a guard ushered us into a perfectly domed structure inside a large cavern, its bright and glowing walls pulsating as if hundreds of creatures were trying to force their way out. As we made our way to a row of pew-like benches near the centre, I caught a glimpse of an object shining a different colour; an egg-shaped stone, deep and rusty red. It stood on a tall pedestal, almost enticingly, and I gazed at it until I realised the general attention in the Hall was focused upon the people seated in front of it…the princes!

I shifted my way along the pew, embarrassed, and noticed that only three of the four thrones were occupied. One of the princes I recognised as Arrow – the only one I'd ever seen, and another struck me as the type of vampire you'd see in horror films with his long black hair and black robes. This was Mika Ver Leth, Mr Crewley whispered to me, the youngest of the princes. The third was the one-eared Paris Skyle, whose long white hair and beard betrayed him as being the oldest living vampire and the wisest of the princes…and now, he was gazing at me calmly, thoughtfully. I dropped my eyes, but I felt his eyes upon me until, with a slight inclination of his head, he beckoned us over.

"We summoned you both here today because we have become aware of certain _matters _which must be addressed," and with this he cast a sharp glance towards my mentor, "but first I greet you. Welcome back to the mountain, Linus. And this must be, ah…Darren Shan."

"It's _David_, uh – Sire."

"It is what?"

"This is David Soul, Paris," Mr Crewley explained. "Not Darren…ah…what did you call him?"

The old prince shook his head. "I must have been misinformed. Or perhaps I simply misheard. Having one ear is often-"

To his left, the black-clad prince cleared his throat.

"You're right, Mika. Now, Linus, as for those _matters_…"

Although Mr Crewley emerged from the Hall of Princes very much alive and in one piece, someone else was to take his punishment for him. I'd agreed to be tested; to take the Trials of Death the next night…Trials, as I'd learned later, that would result in my victory, or my death!

I'd have to complete five tasks, each a test of courage, strength and endurance; but I wouldn't know what was to come until the night of my first trial.

With hours yet to go, I became desperate for something to do, anything but sit still and wait. Almost before I realised I'd made the decision, I found myself amidst the heaving, sweating, shouting mass of spectators and competitors alike, in the Hall of Games. I could have stood and watched, cheered for the winners and hissed at the losers and the quitters, I could have become a part of the raucous crowd, jostling for a front-row position around the high jousting beam, encouraging the poor fool who offered to compete against Abra Shae, a fiery female vampire who – up until my arrival at the mountain – had been the undefeated champion at this particular event.

I'd proved myself then; a half-vampire with the guts of any of the watching full-bloods, but as I stood there in the hours before my first trial, I felt compelled to do it all over again. Just to be sure.

I stepped forward and managed to catch Abra's eye; she nodded her consent. I was swept into the crowd and found myself up on the bars within seconds, flexing my toes, regaining the feel of the rough, narrow surface.

"Shall we begin?" Abra asked, spinning her staff in one hand. I grinned and manoeuvred my own staff into he opening stance.

Immediately my partner swung low at my knees, hoping to knock me off balance before I'd even found it. It was luck that I was leaning precariously to the right when the blow came, for I was able to make it to the second bar without falling.

Instead of following me, Abra took up my old position and began to jab her staff towards me, as if it were a spear she wished to impale me upon. I feared for my stomach and raised my own staff to bar the blows. The collision set the beam I balanced upon shaking, and my left foot slipped. Abra pulled her staff back, delighted, for the thrust that would finish me off. There was nothing I could do but hop – hop on my right leg along the bar until I could safely return my left to the beam.

I did so, and felt my opponent's staff hiss past me without connecting. Only just. However, it gave me time to recover my balance and prepare to leap back to the first bar.

Until I saw that I was already standing on it.

I – the figure, the spitting image of me – surveyed the situation in a glance and spoke.

"I'd step down now, if I were you."

"Why?" I replied aloud. Why was this person standing in the middle of our fight, yet not raising a single whisper amongst the watching crowd?

Abra paused as she heard my question. "What was that, Shan? " She lowered her staff. "Giving up?"

"N-" I began, but found I could not continue under the haunting gaze of the figure.

"You carry on," he whispered, "and, in the end, it's your funeral."

The words made me shiver as I realised how true they were. If I walked away from this duel with an injury – no matter how serious – it could hinder my chances of surviving the Trials.

"Afraid, Shan?"

"N-no," I answered my opponent. "I – ah, have to make ready for my first Trial."

I dropped to the ground and propped my staff up against the beams as my spectators roared their protests and my uncanny apparition dissolved into the air.

A desperate scan of the room located him at the mouth of the cavern, peering down a tunnel. Casually, so slowly that I almost missed it, he raised an arm behind him and beckoned to me. He never took his eyes away from the tunnel, yet his words, when he spoke again, could have been whispered right into my ear.

"This way."

He'd led me to a cavern where luminous lichen grew in particular abundance. Unlike others, it was comparably small and neglected, but oddly businesslike; long-forgotten maps were plastered to crumbling walls. Little coloured flags pinpricked apparently random locations on each.

"This is where we planned for war," my companion said softly before I could question him about his choice of cave.

"What? What war?"

He shrugged. "_The _war."

I stared at him.

"Please tell me I was never as behind with events as you seem to be," he sighed. "You've heard of the vampaneze?" When I shook my head bemusedly he cursed under his breath. "Looks like I'll have to start at the beginning."


End file.
